Hang On
by kyumis
Summary: Insights from Draco on the past, Hermione on the present and a future they will bring upon themselves.


**Author's Note: My very first chaptered fic! Forgive this chapter, because I don't know how to get about with the starting. ): Please give me your comments! Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: Does not own. Because if I did, I would make my fantasies come true. /winkwink**

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><p>There was unrest, a war at the edge of raging, and here he was, stuck in a wreck of a place he called home. This wasn't his home, <em>because home is where the heart is<em>. His heart was somewhere else, a certain brunette, who, he pray, is all well and good. Everyone he knew was in grave danger, and with Dumbledore announcing that Hogwarts might just be taking a longer break than needed; he was subsequently whisked back to the Malfoy Manor while Narcissa and Lucius got around with their usual routine. Voldemort was in their house, his house, and he knew it. . He was mad, hell, he was worse than that. 'Stupid Voldemort and his ideology… messed up idiot!' Draco stabbed hard at his pillow. He was furious at everything.

_It started at the end of 5__th__ year. Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy family and most influential Pureblood family, made a decision to "screw the whole pureblood shit". He was going to be nice. Voldemort was rising. He knew that, but hell is he not going to join those wankers in their quest. That stupid ass of a man had made his holiday one of the best with his constant sermons on Pureblood that it got him really irritated. Thus, the decision he promised to himself. He hid a laugh with the imagination of his ancestors rolling in their graves at his decision. He mused that he might just marry a muggle, for the fun of it._

_Back at Hogwarts after the holidays, hormones were on the run, and like any other sane, normal men, they start to admire women. Draco wasn't blind. The smarty mudblood of the century seem to have gotten prettier the last time he saw her. And boy was he not the only one noticing. He saw a few Gryffindor boys whistling as the Golden Trio made their way towards their dorm, and he felt something gush on his chest. Shaking his head, he thought he must be mad. Blame the holiday, that pathetic excuse of a wizard Lord Voldemort and his rather rash yet still managed to self-convince promise. He silently ensured himself a fun year ahead. _

"_She goes to the library alone at around 4pm every day. I don't know what's so interesting about that stupid place. Madame Pince is enough to make the whole place look like a hell hole. Not to mention the amount of words and texts that is found inside… And why do you even care where she goes?" Crabbe shoved at Groyle while Draco stared at them, face with a frown. Frankly, he doesn't know as well. Looking at the wall clock, he stood up and got his parchments before walking out of the dungeons._

_It seems like forever, facing these four walls. Feelings of dread overcame him. He wondered if there was a way to get out without risking a limb and not seeing that nose-less idiot. He sniggered. No one can blame him for portraying the darkest wizard like that._

_Dropping his books on the table, he roughly pulled the chair and sat on it, before rolling out his parchment and started writing. He wasn't really writing, just waiting for a response from the girl who was sitting opposite him. "Malfoy… what do you think you are doing? Pansy isn't here. And the last time I checked, we hated each other. Get off." Ignoring her, he continued writing, things that doesn't make sense at all. "I am trying to be civil here, although I know you totally don't deserve it. Now, get lost" she started again, and Draco know she is now talking behind the gritted teeth. Ignorance is bliss. And she gave up; totally treating like the guy in front of her is of no existence. _

_Draco would always appear at her table, 4:15pm sharp, sitting down opposite her and start doing his homework. Never once did they talk, save the occasional borrowing of stationeries. Apart from that, they steered clear. At least until two weeks…_

_Hermione's curiosity was getting the better of her. Malfoy turns up at her desk, one week after school reopens, and acting like their fiend never existed and sat in front of her. Praise merlin, but whatever happened to the name calling? He was totally freaking her out._

_Clearing her throat in hope to gain his attention, said boy continues scribbling, oblivious to the sound. Clearing her throat for the second time, no attention was given to her. Save the inward of eye rolling, she crumbled a piece of paper and threw it towards the blonde boy, hitting him squarely on the head, before he glanced up in annoyance._

"_Really Malfoy, I thought you hated me. Why are you even here?"_

"_I don't hate you. Hate is too strong a word. I never said I hate you anyway. Maybe dislike. Not hate."_

"_I never hated you too. So did Harry. Maybe Ron did. But that's beside the point." She replied quietly, before she looked up, and saw him gathering his stuff. He looked up, and locked eyes with said boy. It struck her that he was no longer the idiotic, irritating eleven year old brat, but instead a fine young man with a body to die for... backtrack! How in the world did she come up with THAT conclusion! Mentally slapping herself, she blinked a few times, and he was gone._

_The atmosphere around them felt lighter the in the following days. They held little conversation between themselves, mocking each other's work, teasing each other. To anyone looking on, it looks weird, funny even, how two people from two different houses, especially when both are said to be long-term rivals, and even more when one's family has a history of being a pureblood extremist. But to both of them, it was a steal away from the vicious world of reality. _

_During one of their breaks in between the study times they have planned out, Hermione was busy doodling on one of the parchment absentmindedly. Malfoy boy picked up his quill, and started to draw a face. Well, he was bad at drawing, especially faces, and this particular one came without a nose. Laughing slightly, Hermione drew an arrow, before writing the name Voldemort at the end of it and started grinning at herself. Both of them doubled over with laughter. _

Suddenly, his heart sank. It has been a week since he got any news from the outside. Narcissa had refused him in his request to read the Daily Prophet, instead telling him to read some of the books from their family library. Those didn't interest him. Wizard literature, especially those from the Malfoy library were full of bias, and he hated them all. Muggle literature, he thought, was so much better.

_It was Hogsmeade weekend. Ron had run off with Lavender, together with Harry and Ginny to spend the whole day there. Hermione was tired. Insomnia was getting the better of her, and she knew just what to make her sleep. Flipping through the pages of __**Pride and Prejudice,**__ she stifled a yawn. She was sleepy, but not the need to sleep kind of sleepy. _

"_Granger"_

_Eyes perked, she slammed the book shut, startling Seamus Finnigean and Dean Thomas, who was busy with wizard chess one table away and turned to the noise source, which came from no other than the Slytherin Prince himself. _

_Eyeing him dangerously as he made himself comfortable beside her, he pried the book out of her hand, gave a smirk, _a sign of interest_, before placing the book next to her. _

"_When you are done with it, lend that to me. Get me some of those muggle literatures too. Shakespeare, or whatever that guy is called. "_

_With a swift movement, he was up and out of the Great Hall, leaving a gaping Hermione Granger, and two shocked Gryffindors, who were unfortunate to have overheard a conversation that may leave them scarred for life._

He didn't know what was going on inside Malfoy Manor, much less outside. The last time he heard of anything was from his house elf, which Narcissa had later made that poor house elf not tell Draco anything related to the unrest outside. "It's for that greater good" he had heard her say. He could also hear Lucius snort behind her.

Lucius, that old man, was someone he detested. He never knew what went through that man's mind, especially after joining Voldemort. Narcissa, his mother, however, wasn't someone he hated. But he will never openly say he liked her very much. Apart from his house elf, the other person to actually show him some affection was Narcissa. Draco was beginning to think that Narcissa knew the going-on between him and Hermione at Hogwarts. It struck him a few nights ago that his mother's doing could be to hide something from him. Maybe Hermione haven't survived. His stomach made another churn. He figured that should anything happen to her, he would know. Those Death Eaters would probably be holding a party down at the drawing room. After all, it would have been one-third of victory to make sure the brain behind all operations is down. As of now, all is quiet. That suited him perfectly well.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Please give me your thoughts. Thank you! (:<strong>


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